Numbered Days
by adorable pragmatism
Summary: Only a fool would grow so attached to someone from another universe. For that reason, Dick Grayson considers himself a fool. He's fallen hard for Asami Sato since an accident left him stranded in her strange, beautiful world, and every day he's stuck in Republic City makes it more painful to know that this will eventually end with a goodbye.
1. Thrills

A/N: Oh god I have a crossover story problem but this ship popped up on tumblr and immediately latched onto me and won't let go. I don't even know how to write romance but but but NIGHTSAMI.

And hey I finally thought of a plot and a crappy title yayyy!

It's set in a pocket of time right after The Aftermath. Amon is still causing havoc in the city, Tarrlok is still doing his thing that he does… (screwing non-benders over while hunting Amon, basically). I changed a few things time-line wise… mostly to do with Lin and Asami, but just bear with me, mmkay?

Warning: short chapters, sporadic updates.

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_(0)_

"I'm sorry, but, uh, this is going to be weird, isn't it?" Robin asked. "Haven't you heard of 'three's a crowd'?"

It was a quarter to one in the morning, and Nightwing and Robin were waiting in a dark alleyway, beside a phone booth that was much more than it appeared.

The third person hadn't joined them yet, and they both hoped that she would soon. The two of them were jittering from eagerness to start the mission and from the cold. That frigid wind that whined around every corner of the city was unrelenting; its razor-edge only dulled slightly by the insulation their uniforms offered.

Nightwing was feeling giddy since, with Bruce off on Rimbor, there was no Batman to boss them around tonight and point out their mistakes. He was also worried out of his mind, for the exact same reason. As strict as Batman might be, not having him here meant that there was no safety net.

"It isn't like that, Robin. Zatanna and I… are just friends," said Nightwing. There was once a time when they had been something more, but that ship had long since sailed. "Would you rather have been left behind, lil bro?" he asked teasingly, reaching out to ruffle Robin's hair.

"No!" Robin said immediately, ducking swiftly away from the gloved hand—he was getting good at that. "No… It's just that… You could have brought more team members along, maybe. I know how Batman feels about other heroes in Gotham, but if Zatanna's coming, then…"

"She's only an exception because we need her. Zatanna's the expert in this kind of stuff."

More than that, she was also the one that tipped them off on tonight's sale of stolen magical artifacts. A few of the items belonged to a good acquaintance of hers, and could be dangerous in the wrong hands, so she had used every Justice League resource available to her to track them down. When she narrowed their location to Gotham City, she called up Nightwing for help. They had a history, after all.

Bright light flared within the battered, rusting old phone booth, and Zatanna stepped out as it faded. She was wearing a thicker jacket than usual with her magician outfit, but she still flinched at the bitter, mid-winter Gotham air.

"Just the three of us tonight?" she asked.

Nightwing nodded. "Batgirl has an assignment with the Team."

Nightwing and Zatanna made small talk as they walked to the next alley over—one wide enough to park the Batmobile in—while Robin followed behind, awkward, silent, and watchful of their surroundings.

Talking to Zatanna was always something that came easily to Nightwing. Despite their feelings for each other having cooled off, and despite the slight drifting apart that came with the mutual break-up… it was still good to see her.

Zatanna stopped and stared at the Batmobile gleaming in the low light, then raised a sly eyebrow at the boys. "Does Batman know that you're taking his car for a joyride?"

Oh, Bruce suspected, Nightwing was sure. Dick was _only_ supposed to drive the prized vehicle on nights when he donned the cowl and patrolled as Batman so that the world didn't notice the Dark Knight's absence… But, seriously? The Batmobile was the most technologically advanced, tricked-out, souped-up, sleek, drool-worthy car in the entire world, and Dick would be damned if he didn't take advantage of the opportunity and drive it until the thrill wore off. He didn't think it ever would.

And really, was it so wrong of him to shake off the stress that had been building in tight knots his shoulders and neck—from the alien invasion, Bruce's departure, and the re-emergence of the Light—by doing one thing that brought him joy? He'd dreamt about being behind the wheel of the Batmobile for years, and it was every bit as incredible as he'd imagined. (The Batplane was next on his list to try out.)

"This is our little secret," Nightwing told Zatanna, smirking wickedly. "I thought that a member of the prestigious Justice League deserved to travel in style." He held open the passenger side door for her, like a true gentleman. "Hop in, milady."

"Wait— She— What?" Robin stammered in confusion at Zatanna being offered the shotgun position. A position he would be accustomed to having himself, being Batman's partner and all. Nightwing knew the feeling. "But…"

Zatanna shrugged as she slid neatly onto the glossy leather seat. "I have seniority, Robin, sorry. That's the bane of youth for you. High school, hormones, and being forced to sit in the back."

"We're just lucky that she's not demanding to _drive_," Nightwing muttered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in anticipation while he waited for Robin to buckle up in the backseat. "She'd probably trash the car like the time she trashed my motorcycle." Five years ago as of last Halloween, but he still remembered.

Zatanna heard this and shot him a mild glare, opening her mouth to retort with that sharp tongue of hers, but the only noise she made was a shocked yelp that mingled with the growling rev of the engine, as Nightwing suddenly floored it.

The Batmobile took off like a rocket along the dark roads of Gotham, barely avoiding collisions at each turn, screeching through red lights, tearing every speed limit to shreds. Zatanna was both laughing and loudly questioning Nightwing's sanity. Robin was leaning forward, gripping the back of Nightwing's seat and insisting into his ear that he slow down because if Batman found out that he was driving this recklessly they'd both get into _so much trouble_, and _oh god watch out for that cat! They almost hit that cat! It wasn't funny!_

All the while, Nightwing was grinning a mad, mad grin.


	2. Crossing

A/N: Hey, this chapter's been written for a while, so... yeah.

Thanks for reviewing n' stuff! :D

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_(0)_

Nightwing had almost forgotten how great Zatanna's 'moves' were. There was a reason she made the Justice League cut, and he was reminded of it when she reduced six henchmen's guns to handfuls of melted metal goo with a muttered incantation and a swift flick of her wrist.

_She would make her dad proud_, Nightwing thought sadly.

Her call for them to join her seemed more like her simply respecting this city as their territory, and less of her actually needing their assistance. Nightwing and Robin didn't do much besides helping her sneak inside the dockside warehouse unnoticed and tying up some of the unconscious members of the smuggling ring that she left in her wake.

Part of it was timing, though. They'd busted in before the buyers arrived, so it was only the sellers and their men that needed to be dealt with, and that was a piece of cake. Nightwing caught Robin's eyes as they finished tying up the last of the henchmen, and he knew that they were thinking the same thing: that they should stick around and wait for the buyers to show up so that they could apprehend them, as well.

The stolen goods were in two large duffel bags lying on a metal table. Zatanna seemed unhappy about the delicate artifacts behind packed in such flimsy bags, frowning as she unzipped them and lifted out the cloth-wrapped items with utmost care.

She noticed the curious looks Nightwing and Robin were shooting her. "I just need to make sure they're the right items before I leave with them," she explained.

"You're taking them? Are you allowed to do that?" Robin asked her, but he was looking up at Nightwing when he spoke. "Shouldn't we give those to the police as evidence?"

"They won't be able to handle these items properly," Zatanna said coolly. "Trust me, and let me deal with this."

"Robin's right, Zatanna," said Nightwing. This was their city. She should be playing by their rules. "Don't worry, the police won't be careless. We called the best—"

"I'm sure your police are great, but I was asked to return these personally."

"Who asked you?" Nightwing asked. Her jaw was set as she unwrapped a talisman from a silk cloth and examined it, ignoring him. "Zatanna…"

"He was a good friend of my dad's, okay?" she said sharply, defensively. "He's a dealer in magical items… He sells them to museums and collectors, except for the really dangerous ones. He works with us—" There was a time when '_us'_ meant the Team. Now it meant the Justice League. "—to keep those out of the wrong hands. I was supposed to appraise his newest shipment, but then it was stolen in shipping. I _promised_ him that I would get these back for him."

"Fine," Nightwing said, looking away from her clear, blue, imploring eyes that didn't have an effect on him anymore. They _didn't._ "As long as it's smoothed out between the police and the JLA at some point."

Zatanna nodded gratefully and turned her attention to the stolen goods. She dug through the bags, murmuring to herself.

"A few simple translation charms… cheap communication gems… fortune-telling scrolls, badly-done physio-morphic spells… Just trinkets on their own." She pushed her long, dark hair away from her face and frowned. "The rest of these I'm not familiar with. I'll need time to figure out their purposes. Most are probably fakes, but at least one of them is giving off strong magic." Carefully, she arranged the magical items back inside and zipped the bags up. "Yeah, I think these are his," she confirmed.

Nightwing and Robin tensed at the same time and whirled around, their instincts screaming _danger_ even before the sounds of muted footsteps and faint metallic clicks reached their ears; their birdarangs and wing-dings painfully knocking guns from the hands of the four nearest men even before any bullets were fired.

But there were plenty more shooters up on the higher level balconies lining the inside of the warehouse. Robin, not used to working with Zatanna, was distracted for a split second by a dazzling stunning spell that flew past him on its way to an enemy, and didn't see one of the far gunmen aiming his way, finger squeezing the trigger. Nightwing saw it, though, and he felt like his heart stopped.

There wasn't a chance to do anything but leap between Robin and the gun, so that's what Nightwing did, twisting his body so that he took the bullet straight to his armored shoulder blade and not somewhere softer. The range was far enough that his bulletproof uniform saved him, but it still hurt like hell. He was going to have a vicious welt and some very colourful bruises come morning.

Nightwing wasted no time in pushing Robin and Zatanna into a sheltered area behind some shipping crates, grabbing one of the duffel bags and slinging it over his shoulder as he ran, while Zatanna took the second one.

"They must be the buyer's goons. I was hoping we'd be gone before any more enemy security showed up," Nightwing said quietly while the sounds of bullets pelting the other side of the crate thinned out. Their enemies would give up and come to find them soon. He smiled at Robin. "But, we can take 'em."

Robin nodded and scanned their surroundings like Batman trained them to, taking note of shadows, possible grapple-holds, and places to take cover—the best friends of sneak-attackers. Robin had a brilliant strategic mind, and Nightwing wasn't embarrassed to admit that the younger boy was already better at coming up with plans than he was.

"If one of us causes a distraction over there," he told Nightwing, "the other can—"

"Fighting's not my favourite option right now," Zatanna butted in. She gestured at the bags she and Nightwing were carrying, that held the magical artifacts. "I don't want to risk these getting damaged. We have to take them somewhere safe, fast."

"So, we're running?" asked Robin, frowning at the idea.

"We're running. I'll cast a spell to seal these thugs inside once we're out, and we can let your police do the rest," said Zatanna, giving Nightwing that '_see, I'm compromising'_ face.

"A distraction will still help," Nightwing said. He handed his duffel bag to Robin to hold onto for a moment. "BRB." He slipped out of sight around the metal crate, and returned less than a minute later to inquisitive looks.

"What's the dis—" began Zatanna, interrupted by Nightwing putting a finger to his own lips as a signal for _quiet_.

He counted along in his head with the timer as he took the bag back from Robin. "Now!" he ordered in a low voice.

They ran as the timed explosives blew, the blasts ringing loudly off of the metal walls. Nightwing didn't want to bring the place down on their heads, so the bombs weren't anything that could start a fire or destabilize the building, only make a lot of noise and give off a lot of smoke.

"You know that I could have created duplicates of us to confuse them and keep their attention as we snuck away," said Zatanna as they sprinted to the nearest exit. Smoke pellets were tossed behind them by Nightwing and Robin to help shield them from sight.

"And _you_ know that it's not a true reunion unless we blow something up," Nightwing countered. "It's just like old times."

"We are so covert," she said sarcastically.

"The covert-est," he agreed with a laugh, feeling like a kid again, on one of the original Team's recon missions—back when the Team was still whole and things were simpler—where they would screw up and be seen, leading to fights and explosions, but always ended with them getting the information they were sent for, so Batman was never _too _angry with them.

Zatanna cringed when the gunfire started up again and they heard loud, booted footfalls pursuing them. "My plan would have been better. If anything happens to these items, then so help me…" she threatened Nightwing.

He wasn't worried about facing her wrath, because they were already at the side door they'd chosen as their primary escape exit beforehand. Nightwing ran to it and tried the handle, rattling it angrily when he found that it wouldn't give. Someone had barricaded it from the outside.

Zatanna smirked at Nightwing. "_Nepo!" _she said confidently, waving her hand at the door.

And that's when something went wrong. The air around Nightwing turned cold, like the winter draft from outside had seeped in. The noise in the warehouse was suddenly silenced. The cracks of bullets being fired, the clatter from the thugs approaching them clumsily through the smoke… all gone. He could only hear a muffled buzzing.

Zatanna was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth forming words in an attempted counter-spell, and Robin was reaching a hand towards him, as though trying to pull him back. Both of them were moving sluggishly, in slow-motion, and becoming slower until they were at a complete standstill. At the same time the colours were bleeding away and everything was disappearing behind white light, so bright that he had no choice but to clench his eyes shut, and even that didn't help. The light felt like it was burning right through his mask and eyelids.

Every sense was useless to him. He was trapped, unable to move, hear, or see. Disoriented. Lost. Was he even alive? Was this—?

But before he could panic, it was over. The light faded. The world rematerialized around him, and Nightwing found himself rolling down the side of a sloped rooftop. He didn't remember falling down. He managed to grip some of the tiles and stop himself just before he slid completely over the edge.

His legs were dangling down, along with the duffel bag that he was carrying. The strap had slipped from his shoulder and was caught in the crook of his arm, the bag swinging in the air below, somewhere by his knees. With his head spinning sickeningly, he heaved himself back up and fell to his hands and knees, panting hard.

"Tim…" he whispered to himself, then, "Zee…"

They weren't anywhere in sight. His ear-comm was giving him nothing but shrill static and becoming painfully hot in his ear. He dug the crackling device out quickly to see that it was completely fried, falling apart in his palm. The computer embedded in his gauntlet was in the same sorry state. It wouldn't even turn on.

He stood and tried to gain his bearings by studying the city around him. He was in what looked to be a residential area, all old houses and small businesses with dark windows and closed doors, the streets deserted at this late (so late that it was almost _early_) hour. Something seemed off about his surroundings, but between the lingering vertigo and the darkness, he just couldn't figure it out.

The skyline was one he didn't recognize. There was no thick curtain of pollution hanging above, so it definitely wasn't Gotham. Had he been transported to somewhere in Europe? Asia? He tilted his head up, hoping to discover a general clue of his position by the stars, which seemed almost too bright and numerous for a city sky. His eyes scanned the scattered lights, unable to land on a single constellation he recognized. That was impossible… He'd studied this. Bruce had taught him, in case he ever got lost like he was now. It was _impossible._

A sudden wave of dizziness overtook him. He crouched on the rooftop, holding his head in his hands and trying to _think_. Trying to pull himself together.

Tim and Zee… He'd left Tim and Zee alone in the line of gunfire. He knew that they could take care of themselves. He knew that they were strong and skilled. But, they were his _family_, and if they got hurt because he wasn't there…

There wasn't anything he could do to help them, as much as it pained him to admit that to himself. Right now he needed to find a way to help himself, not worry and dwell on something he had no control over. Getting to his feet, he took a deep breath and pulled out his grappling gun. Time to do what he did best—maybe it would reveal some answers.

Mindful of his injured shoulder, he repositioned the bag he was carrying to make sure it stayed on securely, and took off at a run. The familiar motions of jumping, falling, twisting in the air, aiming, and swinging began to clear his head, making him feel calmer as he soared over the streets of this unfamiliar city.


	3. First Impression

A/N: These were the only three chapters I had pre-written so from here on out updates will be very, um, unpredictable.

Thanks for reviewing! 3 And everything else. :)

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_(0)_

One minute's exploration and observation later, Nightwing decided that he was in an alternate world.

His first thought had been that maybe he was in the past, thrown backwards just under a century based on the clues he took in while on the move.

The old-fashioned architecture—more rough brick, stone, and wood than metal and glass—reminded him of the dark sprawls of spires and narrow alleys that made up the older neighborhoods of Gotham. There were plenty of jutting ledges and stonework details to latch a grappling hook from, making travel from building to building a breeze. He swung over roughly-paved streets where blocky, retro cars were parked for the night.

So, time travel had been his guess for a few frantic moments, until he rested on one of many pagoda-style rooftops to take deep breaths and think about the devastating ramifications his presence would have on the time stream, and saw that the bird perched down the ledge from him wasn't exactly a normal bird.

On second glance, it was half pigeon and half _rat_. Wings and tail curled into its feathered body. Ears and whiskers twitching in the wind.

Alternate world, then. That explained the discrepancy in the star positions… probably. He had no clue. Traveling to other dimensions hadn't been included in his training with Batman. Not specifically.

_Would've been a huge help right about now, Bruce._

At least it wasn't time travel. He didn't have to worry about possibly ruining the future whenever he interacted with anyone or anything.

It was too dark to tell, but Nightwing felt that the beady-eyed bird—_rodent?—_was glaring at him reproachfully, like it knew that he didn't belong here in its world, so he sure as hell didn't belong here on its rooftop.

If this was what the animals looked like, he wondered about the people.

He sat on the ledge with his new friend (he'd named the bird-rat Tim) and rolled his sore, stiff shoulder, trying to keep it limber as the bruise set in. And he cursed Zatanna's stupid magical artifacts. It had to be their fault that he was in this mess. Her spell must have triggered one.

The city lay spread out before him, broken in the middle by a glimmering bay. An island with an illuminated statue shone in the middle of the water. There were taller buildings on the far side, nothing as spectacular as the skyscrapers of downtown Gotham or Metropolis, but they still towered above the ones surrounding them. A few thin plumes of smoke reached up to the sky; other than that, this was the clearest and least tainted he'd ever seen a city sky be. It struck him how beautiful this place was. Exotic, nostalgic, industrial… it all fell together in a unique way.

Nightwing had seen a lot of cities, but none quite like this. Cities like this simply didn't exist. But the night air felt so real. The cold breeze against his face felt as real as it had in Gotham.

Not a dream. Couldn't be.

Which meant that there was no hope of waking up back in his own world. It wasn't that easy.

"_Nepo_." Nightwing repeated Zatanna's spell, even though he knew it was pointless. He wasn't a homo magi like her. It wouldn't work. But… desperate times. And he was so desperate that he tried more backwards commands, hoping one of the artifacts would respond. "Uh… _Nruter_? _Ekat… Ekat em emoh_? _Emoh em ekat?"_

Tim was judging him.

Sighing, Nightwing pulled the duffel bag onto his lap to sort through the magic paraphernalia—maybe the culprit was still glowing?—and noticed that the bag's zipper was loose, leaving it open a small gap.

That could be a problem…

He was _sure_ that he would've noticed a change in weight or the sound of something hitting the ground as he was moving. He could backtrack, just to be on the safe side—

Shouts erupted in the distance. Crashes. Struggling. Fearful yelling. Noises that Nightwing could detect from a mile away, making him automatically tense in preparation for the job he had to do.

All his other thoughts were put on hold.

He said goodbye to Tim. "Keep your beak clean, little buddy. And your, uh, paws too."

Tim ruffled its feathers in agitation at the bang of Nightwing's grappling gun and at his sudden movements as he leapt off the roof, headed toward the source of the commotion.

He found it quickly.

People—normal, humanoid people, he noticed with relief—were spilling onto the street, out of a large hole blown in the side of a building. Another group, clad in metal plates of armor, were systematically capturing the people trying to flee in all directions. Every few feet, men and women were falling to the hard street, tied up and helpless.

Nightwing knew criminals, and those people were _not_ criminals. They were ordinary, everyday people of all ages, stumbling as they ran, faces twisted in expressions of pure fear.

They were terrified.

They were being attacked.

Nightwing had a duty, one that transcended the boundaries of his own world. A duty to help people in danger. He had to _try_ to intervene.

He leapt down into the fray, clubbing a man with his escrima sticks to stop him from advancing on a young woman and what looked to be her teenage sister.

Nightwing stepped over the semi-conscious body of the attacker and gave the woman a comforting smile. "Excuse me, miss, but can you tell me what's going on here?"

She and her sister stared at him in horror, taking in his mask, his attire, and the blunt weapons in his hands. The woman spoke to Nightwing in a squeaky, scared voice, holding her sister tightly as though prepared to protect her.

It was Nightwing's turn to stare.

He could speak a dozen languages, and pick out key words in every other other major one, but he didn't understand what she was saying. Not at all.

Maybe she was babbling gibberish. Maybe she was crazy.

Or maybe he was.

The women took his shock as a chance to escape. Nightwing let them go. He had bigger things to deal with.

Namely the ten or so men moving to surround him, all wearing those strange uniforms of dull metal. Nightwing wasn't sure what to make of them. Were they good or bad? They were arresting innocent civilians, but something about them seemed so _official_, so authoritative. They bore matching insignias on their uniforms, and moved as an organized unit.

They were shouting at him. Just like with the woman, the words made absolutely no sense to Nightwing.

But, the _tone_ they were shouting with… That was a tone he recognized, and he knew exactly which word it went with:

_Freeze!_

A cable shot out and wrapped around his wrist, painfully tight, and yanked. His other hand was reaching for a pocket on his utility belt—a wing-ding would be able to slice the cable and free him—

But another cable caught that arm, and another wrapped around his chest, and more coiled around his legs. There were too cables, and too many well-trained people surrounding him.

He fell to his knees, hitting the pavement hard, his heart racing.

He wasn't scared.

The… soldiers? Were they soldiers? The soldiers disarmed him, taking his utility belt, his escrima sticks, and the duffel bag, and dragged him to a man that seemed to be in charge of this operation. He had tied-back dark hair and cold, cold blue eyes that narrowed in suspicion when Nightwing tried to explain himself, pleading his case in words that no one but himself could understand.

The man gave the soldiers some orders, and then Nightwing was being hauled to a waiting police van. He was thrown inside like a sack of flour, so tied up that he couldn't break his fall. The doors clanged shut behind him.

Alone in the dark, Nightwing tested his bonds. There was no give. They were solid, seamless metal, which made no sense. He'd need a welding torch to get free. Or a heavy-duty file and a few hours. Or some industrial-strength acid.

He pressed his sweaty forehead against the cool floor as the vehicle jerked and began moving.

He was a bit scared.

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Korra was sitting up in bed, her blanket tangled around her knees, looking out the window at the glow of Republic City across the water.

She had just woken up from a dream about the city.

There had been a mask, but it hadn't been a nightmare about Amon. The mask hadn't been _his. _The glimpse of bright blue didn't fit with him, either.

She felt unsettled about it. Her arms and legs were cold and prickling. Her ears were ringing. It reminded her the flashes she'd seen after her terrifying encounter with Amon, when he left her knocked out on Aang's island. Dreams that felt like something _more._

Was this what all that spiritual stuff was about? It was nice to know that she wasn't a complete hopeless case in the spiritual department, but she had no clue what to _do_ about it. The vague images weren't helping her much. She needed things spelled out a little more clearly.

_Work with me here, spirits._

She considered going to Tenzin, then decided that it was too late in the night. She'd wake up all the kids and Pema, too, over a silly dream.

_In the morning_, she thought until her thoughts became fuzzy and mingled with a dream about riding Naga over an endless plain of bleak, beautiful snow to get to a pro-bending match in time. _I'll ask him about it in the morning._


	4. At the Station

A/N: Oh, so people were wondering about languages. Yes, I heard that the writing in the Avatar-verse is in Mandarin, so it would make sense that they speak it, too. And yes, I agree that Dick would have basic knowledge of that language.

But I'm treating them more like completely separate universes than separate TV shows branching from _our_ universe, if that makes sense. Considering that the Avatar-verse is vastly different from the YJ-verse, and there has never been any contact between the two, I think it would be kind of weird if Dick shows up there and they speak a language exactly the same as one in his world. Wouldn't he be wondering how the heck that's possible?

tl;dr, in the Avatar-verse _yes_, they speak/write Mandarin or whatever, but at the same time it's nothing like any language from Nightwing's world. There's just… a disconnect, I guess, that keeps him from understanding. A block in communication that comes from them being different worlds.

tl;dr for the tl;dr, it doesn't even matter because I'm dues ex machina-ing the crap out of that problem next chapter.

(And this is where my tampering of the LoK timeline takes place, because Lin's supposed to have quit by now. And also she's supposed to be at the hospital, I think. -Shrug-)

Long A/N, sorry! Thanks for reviewing! :D :D

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_(4)_

Korra had complained one too many times about being cooped up on Air Temple Island.

Following Tenzin around the city for the day, standing around and having her eyes roll back in her head from sheer boredom as he met with other council people to talk about laws and regulations, was only marginally better than staying home and frustrating herself with her lack of airbending progress. There wasn't even an actual council meeting that day, so she didn't get a chance to see Tarrlok and give him a piece of her mind—probably why Tenzin had chosen _this_ day to let her tag along.

But at least she was out and about, actually being a part of the city she was trying to help. She couldn't just hang out on the island with Mako, Bolin, and Asami all the time, as much as she liked them. Frankly, things had become a bit strained between them, and it was good to get away for a while.

The last stop of the day was the police station. A suspected Equalist had been captured. This one was so strange and important, apparently, that he needed to be brought to the council's attention. Tenzin had volunteered himself and Korra to learn more. All Korra could think was, _Finally, something that sounds interesting._

Lin was waiting for them in the foyer.

"You're late," she said crisply, slapping down the paperwork she'd been reading on the front desk.

Korra hadn't seen Lin since they had revealed Hiroshi Sato as an Equalist and uncovered his secret factory, barely escaping after being defeated by his mecha-tanks. After fighting alongside each other, Korra figured Lin would have warmed up to her by now. But, no, the police chief was still cool as stone and prickly as a thorn bush. If anything, she seemed to be in a worse mood than usual to see Korra. Or just in a worse mood than usual, period.

"I don't want to hear an explanation," Lin said before either of them could open their mouths to give one. "Let's get to business."

She led them down the hallways, stamping ahead at a brisk pace, until they stopped at a door that looked identical to the others.

Lin slid aside a panel on the door, revealing a tiny window. Straining on her tiptoes, Korra peered through the glass. Inside a bleak, metal interrogation room—a lot like the one she'd spent a considerable amount of time in on her first day in Republic City—a young man around her age was sitting at a table. His bright blue eyes (_Water tribe?_ she wondered) were looking straight back at her.

He smiled wearily and winked, which only served to make Korra slightly nervous. She forgot who was the watcher and who was being watched.

"Who am I looking at, exactly?" she asked as she stepped aside and let Tenzin have a turn at the window.

"He calls himself _Nightwing,_" said Lin.

"_Nightwing,"_ Korra repeated. Syllables that make no sense strung together in that order. "That's a strange name. It doesn't sound like he's from around here."

"It doesn't seem like he's from around _anywhere_. He doesn't speak any language we know." Lin glanced at the door with that sour expression Korra was personally used to receiving from her. "It's more than likely that it's all a ploy. I'm not one hundred percent certain what his game is, but I have an idea."

"You believe he's an Equalist?" Tenzin asked.

"The equipment he carried make us suspect so. Dangerous, but mostly non-lethal, weapons. Meant to capture and contain benders until Amon can arrive and remove their bending. The weapons are more advanced than anything we've seen from the Equalists before. My most reliable consultants can't make heads or tails of the technology. Seems Sato has more hidden surprises than we expected."

Korra crossed her arms and sadly thought of poor Asami, all the way back at Air Temple Island. It had been weeks since Hiroshi was revealed as an Equalist and fled, and Korra still couldn't believe that a father would do that—ruin his relationship with his daughter by lying to her for years, then continue his work for such a violent cause.

"I've been interrogating him," Lin was saying, jerking her chin at the door, "but he won't stop playing dumb."

Tenzin considered this. "How long has it been since you arrested him?"

"Four days. Four and a half."

"That was the same night Tarrlok first exercised his new right to seize control of your metalbenders for his task force. I read the initial report—it only said that arrests were made after a raided meeting of an Equalist group. This man was a part of that group?"

"He was apprehended at the same time, but it wasn't an Equalist group," Lin said curtly, scowling like they had prodded a sore subject. "It was a gathering of nonbender civilians from the area, discussing their feelings about Tarrlok's new regime. Maybe a few Equalist sympathizers in the mix, but I can hardly blame them at this point. All the recent 'laws' the council's been letting slide only support Amon's arguments that nonbenders are being oppressed. The others arrested have been cleared of charges, except for _Nightwing_ here."

Korra chewed her lip. Lately, the news on the radio had been story after story of unwarranted searches; unnecessary raids; civilians being arrested and held for questioning, as long as a week in some cases; and talk of a nonbender curfew next. It was becoming a regular feature for Amon to hijack the airwaves at night, giving his own opinion on the matters and trying to sway more nonbenders to his cause.

"I am sorry about the new law," Tenzin told Lin solemnly. "The one that gave Tarrlok authority over your officers. I fought against it, but the other council members—"

"Wouldn't say no to Tarrlok," she finished, the bitterness in her voice plain to hear. "I understand. There was nothing you could do. But, to say that I'm unhappy with it would be the understatement of the year. Between you and I—"

"There's three of us here," Korra pointed out, feeling ignored.

Lin gave her a death glare, then looked back at Tenzin. "I can't imagine I'll be sticking around much longer. Tarrlok's taken most of my power over the police—it's only a matter of time before he shunts me out of my position entirely and replaces me with a puppet."

"Lin…" Tenzin began, concern etched on his face. Korra was feeling concerned, too. Lin was one of the few people working on their side, and if she quit…

"It doesn't matter," Lin said. "I thought I could help my captured officers by staying here, but I was wrong. To save them from Amon, I'll need to scrap the rulebook and go on my own." She scathingly rolled her eyes at Tenzin. "Don't give me that look. I'm not leaving _today_. I just thought it fair to warn you."

* * *

There were four words that Dick was used to hearing by now.

One seemed to be what they referred to _him_ as, but they also asked him questions about it. Did they think he was a a member of a gang? Obviously they thought he was a criminal—all a misunderstanding, of course, but it wasn't like he could explain and plead his innocence.

Another was a name, and no matter how tough that one police lady acted, she, like everyone else, had a flicker of fear in her eyes when she spoke it.

The last two were related. They were paronymous. He could tell; he was a word person. There was a similar root in those two. One referred to… people? And the second to something else, to do with people—he thought it was a verb. Both words were used often.

He was expecting to hear all four words soon—being in the interrogation room usually meant at least an hour of questioning. He hardly even noticed the manacles clamping his legs to the chair bolted against the floor, he was so used to them.

They'd long since taken his weapons, his mask, and his uniform—giving him an outfit of plain brown clothing to wear instead. Not exactly prison garb, but he wasn't exactly in prison. He was just being held at the station, since they had no idea what to do with him.

He was cooperating as best he could. These were the police. The good guys. If he wanted them to help him, he had to be nice and show that he _wasn't_ a criminal. It was working, he thought. They'd dressed his wounds, given him enough food and water, and allowed him other necessities. There was no cruelty on their part, for which he was thankful, and supported his theory that these were the good authorities.

But then why had they attacked and arrested those civilians?

He had too many questions. When he asked them he got blank stares in return.

The lock clicked. He lifted his head at the noise, seeing the door open and a woman in a metal-plated uniform walk inside.

It was the boss lady. Dick wasn't sure, but he thought she was the police chief. Everybody listened to her orders and seemed to have a huge amount of respect for her. The woman was tough as nails, with two long scars on the side of her face to prove it, and even though a lot of the officers had warmed up to Dick, she remained stony and suspicious, treating him like a criminal no matter how friendly he was or how much he smiled at her.

She was his favourite. She reminded him of Bruce.

"Hey, Chief!" he greeted her cheerfully, despite knowing that she couldn't understand him. "How are you? Found a way to get me home yet?" Chuckling softly to himself, he hung his head and looked down at his hands clasped on the table. "Yeah… Probably not, huh? That's okay. We'll figure it out eventually. Right?"

In response he got a lot of harsh-sounding words and finger-jabs in his direction. The message was clear—behave, _or else_.

He always behaved extra well for her. It just seemed to make her more frustrated, like she wanted nothing more than for him to incriminate himself so she could lock him up and have that be the end of it.

The lady gave him one more long glare, then stamped her foot on the floor. The door slid open by itself—he wondered how she and the other officers did that; was it magnets?—and the two new visitors he'd seen through the window walked in.

He assessed them instinctively. The man was middle-aged, wore bright, traditional-looking robes, and had a blue arrow arching down his forehead that reminded Dick of Red Tornado. Weird.

The girl was in her late teens, looked strong, and, hey, she was pretty. He smiled at her again, and she blinked back in surprise before letting her face drop into a frown.

Dick could tell that they were all fighters, just by the way they moved and carried themselves. It was so obvious that they were _heroes_. It emanated off of them. Power. Responsibility. Like the members of the Justice League. For the first time in days, he felt a spark of hope. Maybe they would know how to help him.

He lifted a hand in greeting. They wouldn't trust him enough to shake hands.

The man eyed him worriedly. _"Is it safe to leave him unrestrained?"_ he asked the lady. Dick really wished he could understand what was being said._ "What if he attacks?"_

"_He's bound to that chair—there's no hope of escape,"_ the lady said matter-of-factly._ "Only his arms are free. He needs them to communicate."_

The girl looked confused for a moment. _"Communicate? Oh, like charades?"_

"_He's been on his best behaviour,"_ the lady said._ "He hasn't struggled or fought any of my officers since we brought him here. He hasn't raised his voice or tried to escape. But don't let your guard down. If he makes any move to strike, we strike him first."_ She narrowed her eyes at Dick in warning.

There was a rapping at the door. It opened slightly and the officer outside exchanged a few words with the boss lady through the gap. Whatever he told her made her seem startled. She stalked out of the room, followed by the others.

The door slammed shut and Dick was left alone again.

His hopes crumbled away. "Okay, bye then," he said, almost sighed.

Dick waited, listening to the muffled voices talking on the other side of the door. So they hadn't completely left.

They reentered. The lady was holding something small and shiny between her thumb and forefinger, making as little contact with it as possible like it was dangerous. Dick didn't recognize it as one of the magical items he accidentally brought with him to this world until it was being shoved under his nose.

"_What is this, and why does it keep saying your name?" _the lady demanded.

Dick stared at her. She had brought in pieces of his equipment and the magical items and asked him about them over and over for days, but now she seemed more insistent than ever.

It was only a hunk of raw crystal, set in hammered metal inscribed with runes. There had been half a dozen of them in both of the bags. What was the big deal? He thought the gem might be glowing, or It could've just been reflecting the glare of the bright interrogation lamp shining down on Dick's head like a spotlight.

The acceptance that he wouldn't be able to understand anything being said, the defeat stamped into him over days of isolation, kept him from registering that he was hearing familiar words. Words that meant something to him.

Shock froze him from head to toe when he realized that a voice he knew was speaking through the magic artifact, fraught with worry.

"Nightwing? Hello? Please tell me you're there."

Dick grinned so widely it hurt. "Zatanna."


	5. Lucky

A/N: Gotta get all this boring plotty stuff out of the way. Gosh it's such a pain.

(People in the Avatar-verse _obviously_ have more entertaining slang terms for male anatomy. I can think of some funny ones. Or maybe it's just a glitch in translation. Or maybe I just wanted to give poor Dickie-boy a break.)

* * *

_(4)_

Something about the voice made Nightwing jolt towards it like he forgot he was chained to the chair, reaching desperately for the milky-white gem to snatch it away from Lin. Korra tensed, beginning to slide into a fighting stance while Tenzin did the same beside her, but it wasn't necessary.

Lin reacted automatically, holding the gem up out of Nightwing's range and thrusting her other arm forward. She stopped short of actually striking him. Her hand halted in front of his chest, a clear threat, and he froze.

He blinked and slowly sat back down again, taking a deep breath.

The crystal in Lin's hand kept talking. It was a woman's voice. Korra stared at it wide-eyed, still amazed at the phenomenon. "_Nightwing, where are you? We tried your communicator, but it's dead. All you left behind were serious magic readings. We were scared you were—"_

"_I'm fine,"_ Nightwing replied. Lin narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't stop him from talking._ "And it's a long story. First things first: you're okay? Robin's okay?"_

"_Totally okay, both of us. Just worried sick like everyone else."_

Looking like a huge weight of dread had been lifted off his shoulders, Nightwing ran a shaky hand through his hair and said, _"I'm in another world. It's like ours in the most important ways, but it's completely different in others. I haven't seen much of it, because I got stuck in jail, but there's a strict lady with greyish hair, and a bearded man wearing robes of some kind, and—"_

"_Do they have British accents?"_

He laughed, but it was a dull noise. _"Not Hogwarts, Zee. I wish it were, because they'd probably know enough magic to send me back. We don't even speak the same language. It's beyond frustrating."_

"_I'm so sorry about this," _the woman's voice said. It sounded like an apology._ "I had no idea one of the items would react like that. I mean, an 'open' command opening a portal? It's just—"_

"_Don't sweat it. It's not your fault."_

"_We thought you were dead, Nightwing. Everyone's been so worried. I haven't slept in days, I was trying so hard to contact you."_

"_How'd you do it? I thought I was completely on my own."_

"_Communication gems—well, they have a proper magical name, but it's really long. I had some in my bag, too. They were all in the same shipment, so their magic essences rubbed off on each other, and I managed to set up a link. It was tough, though. I'm pretty sure nothing like this has ever been attempted, and these kinds of items have been around for thousands… But, the history of magic lesson can wait. We need to get you home."_

Hope lit up Nightwing's eyes. _"Can you do it? Dnes gniwthgin emoh?"_

"_Not that way. My magic doesn't work between worlds like that. Even Dr Fate…" _The woman's voice trailed off sadly, and returned with determination. _"The only thing with the power to bring you back will probably be the same artifact that sent you there. It just needs an incantation. My incantation."_

"_They confiscated everything because I'm insane and dangerous, but I'll see if I can convince them." _

Nightwing looked away from the gem and at them instead. The three of them had been standing by and listening to him talk in utter confusion. Korra had no idea what he'd been discussing with the woman's voice—it could have been anything from plans to kill them to that morning's weather. But likely neither. He mostly sounded tired.

He wasn't simply looking at them; he was looking at them with _intent_. Engaging them. He had something he wanted to say.

Nightwing pointed at the gem, then made a gesture with his arms. _Larger_, or… _wider?_ No… _more._ More.

"He wants to see the other things in the bag," Korra said, turning to Lin and feeling a thrill of pride for figuring it out. "The one you took."

"Of course he does," Lin said irritably. "I'll bet he wants his weapons back, too. We don't know what those items are capable of. He probably means to attack us with them."

Nightwing seemed to sense her suspicion, and shook his head. Slowly, carefully, he brought his hands in front of him, clasped together. Pleading, begging silently for them to trust him. The plea was reflected in his eyes. He seemed exhausted and confused and a little anxious—not hostile. Not at all.

Lin's mouth went tight with displeasure, but she left the room and returned shortly with the bag. It was dumped on the table in front of Nightwing unceremoniously, clanking loudly.

Flashing a smile and saying something that could only have been a _thank you_, Nightwing set to work, quickly and efficiently sorting through the items in the bag, taking each one out and laying it down carefully, chatting with the gem the entire time. The objects he placed on the table varied from precious metals inlaid with jewels to grubby pieces of parchment covered with spiky symbols. The only thing the strange assortment of items had in common was that they all looked old. Very old.

Nightwing's hands moved fast, and soon the bag was empty. It was obvious by the look on his face, lined with dismay, that there was a huge problem.

"_Are you sure it's not here?"_ he asked the gem, which was resting by his elbow now.

"_Positive," _the woman's voice replied._ "None of those items could have that effect. You're actually missing a few. I'm looking at an inventory list right now, and some of them haven't been accounted for by either of us."_

Groaning, Nightwing clapped a hand against his face. _"My bag was open," _he said, his voice muffled. He was talking into his palm because his face was still covered with his hand like he never wanted to show it again._ "I was checking out the city, and when I stopped I noticed that the zipper wasn't shut all the way, and I was going to double-back to check, but then…"_

There was a back-and-forth exchange between the voice and Nightwing that sounded like bickering. Korra didn't need to understand the words to know that.

"_I couldn't just stand by and not help!" _Nightwing said.

"_I know, I know,"_ the woman's voice replied understandingly, with a hint of exasperation._ "But you've made things so much harder for yourself."_

"_As if they aren't hard enough already," _he said grimly, glancing up at the three others in the room. _"They're looking at me like I'm crazy. I think they're losing patience. Now I know what Adam Strange went through when he tried to communicate with the Rannians. Charades are a pain. I could sure use M'gann here to translate."_

"_She can't help you, but maybe I can. You have a translation charm with you. Dormant, but—"_

Nightwing perked up instantly. _"But you can activate it?"_

"_Definitely. You're one lucky guy."_

"_Lucky's my middle name."_

There was more back-and-forth talking, and Nightwing selected a small trinket about the size of a thumb, intricately carved, from the others laid out before him on the table. The woman's voice said one word—just one word that echoed strangely in the room and seemed to resonate with power. Korra felt a shift in the air, like a sudden draft that settled as soon as she noticed it.

"Did it work?" Nightwing asked, looking at each of them in turn. They looked back, thunderstruck. His words were making sense.

"It worked!" Korra exclaimed, then she cleared her throat and said in a more serious voice, "Yes, it worked." Whatever _it_ was.

"Remarkable…" Tenzin said in astonishment.

"This is going to sound insane and completely impossible to believe, but just hear me out," said Nightwing. He was talking in a rush, the words flooding out like he was making up for all the time spent unable to communicate by telling them everything he hadn't been able to at once. "I'm from another world. Whether this is a different dimension or some kind of alternate universe, I have no idea. All I know is that my friend Zatanna—that's who I was talking to just now; she's magic—and I were scouting out an operation of stolen magical items, something was triggered, there was a lot of bright light, and I ended up in your city. What's it called? I never got the name."

"R-Republic City," said Tenzin, blinking in shock at all the new information.

"Cool. I—"

Nightwing was interrupted by the woman's voice coming from the crystal. While they could understand _him_ now, the woman's voice was still speaking gibberish.

"_Sorry, but activating that charm took more out of me than I expected. I have a major headache, so I need to close this line of communication, just for a couple minutes, until I gather enough energy to maintain it. I need to tell the others you're okay, anyway."_

Nightwing agreed with the voice, then looked up at them. "Introductions are in order. I'm Nightwing."

And before when he said it, it had been a jumble of sounds that didn't make sense, but now the word meant something. _Night_, the opposite of day. _Wing_, like a bird. Nightwing.

"That's an… interesting name," Korra commented.

"It's not my _real_ name, actually. It's my hero alias."

"Hero?" Lin asked.

"I fight crime. Usually as part of a team, sometimes by myself. When I was younger I was the partner of a hero named Batman." _Wolfbatman_, Korra found herself mentally correcting. "We defended a city together, trying to keep it free from crime. There's lots of heroes where I come from." He smiled at Lin. "So, you see, I'm not a criminal. It was all just a misunderstanding."

Lin wasn't convinced. "Tell us your real name," she ordered loudly.

"I— I don't think I can—"

She slammed her hands on the table and glared down at him. "Now. I demand to know."

Cringing, Nightwing looked aside for a few long seconds, and Korra knew what thoughts were racing around in his mind. He didn't seem comfortable revealing his name, but Lin wanted it (When Lin wanted something, she didn't rest until she got it. Korra had never seen anyone hold grudges like her.) and she was the one with the power to free him from jail.

"I guess it doesn't even matter…" he said, more to himself than to them. "This_ is_ a different world… Fine. It's Richard Grayson."

The name 'Richard' still made absolutely no sense, but Grayson did. _Gray_, as in the colour. _Son_, as in male progeny. Or was it _Gray-sun_, where _sun_ was the light that brought day? Korra asked Nightwing, and he grinned and told her that, no, it was the former.

"Are you a semantics person, too?" he asked.

"Uh… I don't think so… I'm just trying to understand. This is all really strange. Do you want us to call you Nightwing, or 'Richard', or Grayson? Or Richard Grayson?"

"Call me whatever you want. I also go by, uh… Dick, but if you're taking names in a literal sense that might not be the best one to use…" he said, his face flushing slightly.

They stared blankly, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Why?" Korra asked when he didn't.

"Huh." He looked startled at their lack of reaction. "Well, where I come from it's an old-fashioned name, and nowadays… but this place _is_ old-fashioned, so maybe…" They kept staring. "Well, this is a nice change," he said under his breath. "So, sure, call me Dick if you want. Who are all of you?"

They introduced themselves. He accepted Councilman Tenzin and Chief Bei-Fong easily enough, but was baffled at Avatar Korra.

"Sorry, the what now?"

"The Avatar," Korra repeated, feeling a little miffed. "Y'know, master of all four elements? The only person in the world that can bend fire, and water, and earth, and—"

"_Bend_," he said, and looked over at Lin. "Of course, that's one of the words you guys kept saying. But what does it mean?"

"What does _bend_ mean?" Korra asked incredulously.

Dick might as well have asked what it means to _see._

Even Tenzin was at a loss for how to explain. "It's…" he began.

"It's _this_!" Korra settled for a demonstration. She swiped her hand through the air and fire trailed after it, crackling and fading. Dick watched, his eyes wide like the simple firebending move that a five-year-old could master was something impressive.

"You're like a metahuman!" said Dick. "You have superpowers."

"Uh, no," Korra said, confused by the unfamiliar terms. She didn't know what a meta-whatever was, but she was certain that she wasn't one.

"Korra is the Avatar," Tenzin said. "She's a bender, like both of us." He gestured at himself and Lin.

"So there are a lot of you that can control fire?" Dick asked.

"Or water, earth, and air. There are some individuals that can't bend, but many can, and—"

"And _you're_ the only one that can control all of them," Dick finished, looking at Korra. "Because you're the Avatar. I think I've got it. This world's more different from mine than I thought."

"There aren't any benders in your world?" asked Tenzin.

"Well, no…"

That set off warning bells inside Korra's mind. "A world without bending…" Exactly like what Amon was trying to create.

"Not totally," Dick said. "If I'm understanding the concept, then we have a few people like that. People that can move air, or water, or fire. We just don't call them 'benders', and they're very rare, like all people with superpowers. Most of them are heroes like me." Before Korra could ask more questions about his world like she wanted to, he said, getting to business, "Okay, I'm assuming you're the good guys. Probably shouldn't, because that's a pretty big assumption with little to go on, and Batman wouldn't approve, but—"

"We're the good guys," Korra said. She was the _Avatar_, for crying out loud.

"Great! We're all on the same page. I need your help. I was sent here by a faulty magical artifact, and I need it to get home. The only problem is that it isn't here. I think I dropped it the night I was arrested. Did you—"

"No other items were brought in with you," Lin informed him. "It must still be out in the city. What does it look like?"

"That's another problem. I don't know. There are a couple of candidates, according to Zatanna. And speaking of her…" He picked up the gem, which looked to be glimmering slightly. "Feeling better?"

"_A bit,"_ said the woman's voice—Zatanna._ "Keeping the line open is a huge drain on my magic. I don't think I can do it for more than a few minutes at a time."_

"We'll have to make this quick, then. I've explained the situation to the people here, and they're being pretty understanding about it."

"_Great. Ask for some paper and a pencil. I have pictures of everything with the inventory list. It'll help if you know what you're looking for."_

Korra watched as Dick drew on a scrap of paper with the pen brought in by one of Lin's officers. He was making rough sketches from Zatanna's descriptions. The first picture was of a statue of some squat creature that looked like a cat-owl, but not. Something about it looked off, but it could have just been Dick's drawing ability.

The second picture was of a block covered in runes. It was almost finished before Korra noticed that she recognized some of the inscriptions.

"That's the water symbol!" she said, pointing. And she also spotted the symbols for earth, air, and fire. They weren't drawn as well, a bit warped, a bit skewed, so she hadn't made the connection immediately. She took the pen from Dick and fixed them to prove it to Tenzin and Lin.

"Zatanna, we have a hit," Dick said, grinning. "They recognize the symbols on this one."

"_That sounds right. The history behind this relic is unknown. It was found in a ruined temple, but the workmanship didn't match the era, and we have no idea what it's for. Maybe it was from their world to begin with."_

"Now I just have to head out and find that hunk of rock, then I'm home free."

But Lin wouldn't trust him to roam the city by himself. Korra knew that the chief was thinking of locking him back up and sending her officers to do the searching instead.

Korra wasn't sure why she volunteered herself to accompany him. Maybe she just blurted it out impulsively because she was restless and wanted to accomplish something. Maybe she felt bad for him. Maybe she was intrigued because that artifact had all four elements carved into it, which hinted at an Avatar connection (Tenzin was considering the same thing; she could tell by the thoughtful expression on his face as he looked at the picture) and made this feel like her responsibility.

Lin vehemently forbade it, and Korra argued, and Lin argued back, but eventually Lin was worn down. For her this was just one problem on top of a stack of other, more important ones.

"Fine!" she spat out finally. "You'd better keep a close eye on him, because if he sneaks away and causes any sort of trouble in this city, it'll be on _your_ head."

Tenzin pulled Korra aside when they were out in the hallway, while Lin worked on organizing Dick's release from custody. "Are you sure you want to get involved with this?"

Korra felt like she'd been involved even before she stepped foot inside this station. "I think he's an okay guy. He's telling the truth. And I think we can help him out. Isn't that what being the Avatar's all about? Helping?"


	6. Before Dark

A/N: ASAMI SHOWS UP NEXT CHAPTER YAY

* * *

_(4)_

Looking pleased to be unchained and walking as a free man for the first time in days, Dick joined the others in the foyer, sharing a laugh about something with the officer that escorted him.

Tenzin took one look at him then turned to Lin, frowning. "He can't go out wearing that. He'll freeze."

Dick's police station-supplied clothes were thin and Korra could tell they were scratchy—she itched just looking at him—totally unsuitable for the cold weather outside. His shoes weren't much more than slippers. They were the kind of cast-off clothes that people gave to charity.

"We don't have anything better here, besides police uniforms," said Lin. "And I won't have him masquerading as an officer."

Dick suggested that he could wear his uniform, the outfit he arrived in their universe with. "It's thermally insulated," he said.

"It's evidence," Lin retorted. "But... fine," she said after a moment. She had to know it was the best solution. "You can have your uniform. Anything else?" she asked sarcastically.

"Actually… my grappling gun? I need it to retrace my steps. I was on a lot of rooftops," explained Dick. "And my escrima sticks."

"Don't push your luck."

"Please? I mean, you guys can control fire and water. All I'm asking for is a couple of sticks to defend myself. Not my explosives, or taser, or my wing-dings, or any of my other weapons. Just the escrima."

The three of them looked at Lin. It was her call. (Korra was just trying to think of what in the world 'wing-dings' could be.)

"The streets can be dangerous," Tenzin reminded Lin. "And I stick by Korra's judgement. I don't believe he'll attack us."

"I'd like to see him try," Korra said smugly, and to her slight surprise Dick just grinned back at her like that was some good-natured ribbing. Like they were friends already.

In the end, Lin relented. If only because she seemed sick of discussion, and other officers were hovering around, waiting for her to finish up so they could bring important issues to her attention. Korra felt a little bad for her. She seemed exhausted, and though it was late in the afternoon, the day was far from over for the chief of police. Equalists were most active at night.

Dick's "uniform" turned out to be a black, form-fitting—_incredibly_ form-fitting, and Korra tried her best not to stare or blush when he returned after changing—bodysuit with a symbol across his chest of a blue bird spreading its wings. He was holding a small mask in his hands, but he decided not to put it on and instead stuck it in one of the pouches on his belt.

Korra was relieved for that, because being around anyone wearing any sort of mask would undoubtedly make her break out into a nervous sweat.

Then it hit her; the mask, the shade of bright blue. The mostly-forgotten dream came rushing back. No wonder she felt like she was supposed to help him.

Korra pointed at the blue bird on his chest. "I had a dream about you!" she told Dick.

"Oh. You did?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she realized how weird that had sounded.

"Yeah, but not really— I just—" Korra struggled to explain. "I remember the mask, and the blue symbol you're wearing. It must have been…" She paused, trying to remember. "About three or four nights ago. That's around the same time you came here, right?"

She had never gotten around to telling Tenzin about the dream, so he was looking at her curiously. She gave him a hasty retelling of the little she remembered. "…And it makes sense. Because the thing that brought him here had all the element symbols carved on it. It must have to do with one of the past Avatars. When he came to our world he probably caused some sort of… of spiritual disturbance."

Tenzin didn't say anything, but Korra could tell that he was thinking deeply about this. They wouldn't know more until they found the artifact.

All of Dick's other possessions—the weapons, and the bag of artifacts excluding the ones he needed for translation and communication back home—were staying under lock and key at the station for safekeeping, and to keep them out of the wrong hands, until he could return to his own world.

"See you soon, Chief!" Dick said just before they walked out the door. "I'll be back to say goodbye to everyone before I go home."

Lin looked up from the paperwork an officer was showing her to cast Dick a disparaging glance. When she spoke her voice was maybe, just maybe, less hostile. She was probably just glad to see him go. "Get out of my sight, Grayson."

* * *

"I've done a lot of crazy things in my life," Dick said, "but this takes the cake. Really."

"If I didn't know better, I might think you've never seen a sky bison before, or something," Korra joked.

Gripping the side of Oogi's saddle and leaning out dangerously far to feel every gust of air, Dick was looking everywhere—down at the patchwork of roofs far below them, up at the blue sky scattered with clouds, forward at the slowly rippling waters of the bay. "Definitely never ridden one," he joked back, a breathless quality to his voice. "Better than the Batplane, or the bio-ship. The Supercycle comes close, but this is— it's awesome…" He kept rambling in excitement.

Korra was still chuckling at the memory of his face when he laid eyes on Oogi. There had been an actual jaw-drop involved.

With Lin's directions in mind, Tenzin was flying them to the spot the raid had been those nights ago, where Dick had been arrested, so they could backtrack from there.

Korra didn't get to ask Dick more questions about his world like she wanted to, since there was another call from his home world. This time it was a boy's voice, and the look on Dick's face was one of pure relief and happiness. He reminded Korra of Mako after Bolin was saved from the Equalists. She didn't need to be told to know that the boy was Dick's brother, so she didn't interrupt him while he babbled away with the gem for the rest of the flight.

* * *

"Well, this is where I arrived," said Dick. He was perched with ease on top of a tiled roof like he did it every day, scanning around him for the only thing capable of sending him home. He'd described it to Korra and Tenzin—a stone tablet, about the size of a small book. Pretty unremarkable.

Dick dropped down to the ground, joining Korra and Tenzin in the alleyway. It was an impressive drop, but the landing didn't jar him in the slightest. He even threw in a flip. "I don't understand— I thought for sure it would be here. The first thing I did when I crossed over was almost fall off this roof, and I nearly dropped the bag. If anything fell out it would've landed right _here._" He scuffed the gravel with his toes.

They searched for almost two hours, going back and forth on the path he'd taken that night. Dick swung through the air by cables like a metalbending police officer while Tenzin and Korra followed on Oogi, or they all searched at ground level, exploring the alleyways and even the surrounding ones, just to be thorough, all while the sky bison circled overhead.

They didn't find anything but trash and pebbles.

Korra didn't know what else they could do. The scent would have worn off by now—it had rained in the past few days—so Naga wouldn't be able to help, even if Korra went and fetched her from Air Temple Island. There wasn't time for that, anyway. The sky was beginning to darken, the orange sun dipping low behind the buildings.

They had to go soon. Tenzin was right when he said that the streets could be dangerous, especially at night.

Sure enough, Tenzin soon turned to Korra. "We should leave. There's no point in searching in the dark."

"Yeah, I know." She looked around for Dick to tell him the bad news, but he was nowhere to be found. The three of them had ventured a bit too deep into the city's maze of alleys. Things were a bit too seedy, a bit too narrow, around here, and Korra felt her stomach curl in dread. "Dick?" she called. "Uh… Richard Grayson?"

He had been ahead of her just seconds ago, but she lost sight of him in the darkness. He might have taken a corner. If Korra lost him, Lin would have her head.

"Nightwing?" Tenzin tried.

"Here!" They both whirled around to the source of the voice, hearts racing. "Sorry, sorry," Dick said, stepping out of the shadows and holding up his hands in appeasement. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you, I was just—"

He stopped, a serious expression crossing over his face and his eyes becoming sharp and focused. Korra was almost frightened by the intensity of the look, and when he launched himself forwards, arming himself with those blunt weapons so swiftly that it seemed like they magically appeared in his hands, her stomach dropped, but in disappointment, not fear.

Had she been wrong about him this whole time? She had wanted so much to believe that he was a good person, and here he was, about to attack them.

She instinctively moved to block, feeling the solidness of the earth below her, drawing it up to make a barrier, but, instead of going for her or Tenzin, Dick went straight past them and leapt into the far dead end of the alley, where there was nothing but inky blackness…

…and three pairs of glowing eyes. Korra would recognize the eerie yellow-green hue of chi-blocker goggles anywhere. It showed up in her nightmares often enough.

Dick swung down with those sticks he carried (the name escaped Korra) and the chi-blockers scattered; one trying, and failing, to get a critical hit on Dick. Dick was matching blow-for-blow, blocking each strike with a kind of natural ease, like he wasn't even thinking about it, and returning the hits with enough force to send the chi-blocker stumbling back. The other two darted towards Korra and Tenzin.

"I'll take the ugly one," Korra told Tenzin as they stepped up to fight, flames crackling in her palms.

Dick was struck in the shoulder, leaving his arm limp and useless. He fought on with his one good arm, more ferociously. Even one-armed, he seemed to have the upper hand. It was impressive—Korra had never seen anyone last that long hand-to-hand with a chi-blocker before.

Korra kept her opponent at bay with blasts of fire, while Tenzin did the same to his with air. Chi-blockers could only do damage if they could make contact, and Korra was going to keep them as far away from her as she could in this tight alleyway.

It was working. Dick knocked his down to the ground with a powerful kick to the chest, and Korra and Tenzin's bending was keeping the chi-blockers so busy trying to dodge that they couldn't even lay a hand on them. Korra was sure that her side was winning.

One of the chi-blockers raised his hand up in a signal, then all three fled in opposite directions, swiftly disappearing around corners and climbing over the walls. Korra was about to make chase, hatred and rage boiling in her veins, but Tenzin called her back. She looked over and saw that Dick was lowering his grappling gun. Like her, he had also wanted to follow the chi-blockers.

"They could be trying to lure us into a greater trap," Tenzin said calmly.

"Who were those guys?" Dick asked.

"Chi-blockers that thought they could take us down with a sneak attack," Korra said, not wanting to admit that it might have worked if Dick hadn't seen them and taken away their element of surprise. Then again, it was because of him that she and Tenzin were in this sketchy alleyway to begin with. "They must have seen us around and decided to take a chance. Bad decision."

Dick grabbed his nonfunctioning arm with his one working hand, trying to rub feeling back into it. "Jeez, out of practice just a few days, and…" he muttered to himself. "Is this permanent?"

"No, just give it a minute," said Korra. "Listen, we can't stay here. If we do, more will come. We'll have to return during the day."

He didn't seem concerned. "You can leave me here to search on my own. I'll be fine; I'm used to fighting at night."

"But you don't know anything about the Equalists," said Tenzin. "They aren't to be taken lightly. Even the most powerful benders have difficulty with them."

"Okay," he agreed, with an aggravated sigh that they knew wasn't directed at them. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, for sure," Korra said, forcing a smile.

She didn't want to say what they all knew to be true. Since they hadn't found what he needed yet, waiting another day wouldn't hurt because the chances were already as low as they could get. Who knew how far it had travelled since it had been misplaced?

It was possible that Dick was stuck here with them for a long time. But hey, at least the guy could fight.


	7. Introductions

A/N: Love triangles are so dumb oh my god. That's another thing I had to change: Asami found out about the kiss a lot sooner and she and Mako broke it off, but Mako's not with Korra yet, so they're kind of in this awkward, in-between limbo type deal I don't know.

I wish I knew anything about cars. D:

(I hope I didn't make any mistakes, I kind of rushed this out before leaving on a trip!)

* * *

_(4)_

There was the matter of what to do with Dick now that his plans to return home were delayed.

"You're not going back to jail," Korra told him exasperatedly. They were on a quiet street, boarding Oogi, and Dick kept politely trying to evade their offer of a place to stay.

"I just don't want to intrude," he said. "I mean, I'm totally fine spending another night at the station. It wasn't that bad. Everyone was nice enough, and I've always kind of wanted to be a police officer, so it'll be a good—"

"You're staying with us," said Korra firmly. "It's no problem at all, right Tenzin?" Tenzin was silent as he took the reins. "Right, Tenzin?" Korra asked again, less certain of her assumption. He wasn't going to send Dick away, was he?

"Yes, I agree," Tenzin said, snapping to attention. "He should stay with us. I insist. I was just thinking that… I never imagined the island would become home to so many wayward youths."

Dick was laughing as they took to the air. "Believe me, I know the feeling. Mount Justice is nothing but wayward youths. But don't worry, I'm not planning to make a home of your island. Or your world."

"I'll call Chief Bei-Fong and tell her you're spending the night on Air Temple Island." Tenzin looked back over his shoulder, speaking loudly so they could hear him over the wind. "I'm sure she'll want to kept up-to-date. You made quite an impression on her."

Dick laughed again. "That's one way to put it."

"It isn't _you_ she's angry at. She was just disappointed. For days she thought you were a breakthrough in our conflict against the Equalists."

"Sorry to disappoint. So, who are these Equalists? Bad guys?"

It was tough explaining the differences between benders and non-benders, and the extremist organization that was fanning flames of discontent throughout the city, to someone who learned what bending was only a couple of hours ago, but they tried. It helped that he was an attentive listener, soaking up every piece of information and history they had to give.

"You _really_ don't have benders in your world at all?" Korra asked him as they flew past Aang's statue. The lights were turned on as they passed, making the statue glow a bright jade against the deepening sky.

"Mmm…" Dick hummed thoughtfully. "Not exactly. We have people with special powers, but we don't call them benders. An… old friend of mine has powers similar to a waterbender. And I know a robot—sorry, you probably don't know what that is… it's like a machine that's also a person—that's like an airbender. There are other kinds of powers, too, like super-speed and super-strength, flight, mind-reading, shapeshifting… Almost anything you can imagine."

"And you don't have any powers?"

"Nope," he said cheerfully, not seeming offended. "But don't think that makes me a pushover."

"I wasn't!" Korra explained hastily. "I mean, Sokka helped Avatar Aang save the world, and he wasn't a bender. It's the person, not the powers."

"I'm glad to know that I'm not considered a second-class citizen here."

"Of course not," Tenzin said. "Republic City was founded on a basis of equality for all people."

"Not according to the Equalists," Korra sighed to herself, looking back at where the sun was dipping below the skyline of the city and wondering, like always, what the Equalists would do tonight.

* * *

"You're pulling my leg!" Bolin said, agog.

Korra and Dick had interrupted Mako and Bolin with introductions and explanations as they finished up fixing the door to one of the island's greenhouses. The two brothers insisted on doing chores to earn their keep, chores that ranged from repair work to babysitting. This evening it was both, and the airbender kids joined Bolin in goggling at Dick.

Unlike the others, Mako was acting less impressed. He was kneeling on the ground, gathering up the tools and putting them away, only giving a brief glance up as he asked, "How is that even possible?"

"Magic," Dick said with a shrug. Mako's eyebrows knitted together in disbelief and he gave Korra a look like, _is this guy for real? _

Korra answered with an awkward nod-fidget that she hoped conveyed both _yes_ and _I get what you mean_.

Ikki's big mouth and Bolin's bigger one meant that once Asami came to live with them she very quickly found out about Korra's feelings for Mako and the kiss they had shared, and the couple had almost just as quickly broken off their relationship. At least that's what Korra figured had happened, because they weren't talking to each other much, besides civil pleasantries.

Lately, Korra had no idea how to act around Mako. With Asami out of the picture, was she supposed to pursue Mako (even though Asami was currently living with them and that would be incredibly awkward)? Or was she supposed to wait and give him space to get over the break-up? Was she supposed to spurn him because he'd chosen Asami over her?

She just couldn't bring herself to be that mad at him. He was still her friend. She still liked him.

"You're actually from another world?" Jinora was asking Dick. "Will you tell us stories?"

"You have to!" said Ikki, jumping up and down.

"You don't have to—" Korra began, but Dick just smiled.

"I am going to tell you _so many_ stories," he promised the children.

"They're never going to leave you alone now," Korra told him out of the corner of her mouth. Already, Ikki was poking him in the stomach and asking him why his clothes were so weird, and Jinora was looking at him with shining eyes, and Meelo was just kind of… writhing around excitedly. "You realize that, right?"

"S'okay. I like kids."

"Is Asami around?" Korra asked. She should probably introduce Dick to her, too.

"She had a meeting to go to," Bolin said while Mako determinedly pretended to busy himself with checking the door's hinges again. "She's supposed to be back before dinner, I think?"

"Mako, can he borrow some of your clothes? I think you'll be a closer fit than Bolin."

Tenzin had heavily hinted to Korra that she help Dick find something else to wear. His "uniform" was very, very fitted and she had difficulty looking at him without blushing. The last thing she needed right now was another reason to feel awkward.

Mako sighed. "Yeah, fine. I'll help find you some."

But Ikki had other plans. "C'mon, you promised you would help us feed the sky bison!" Ikki whined, tugging on Mako and Bolin's arms. "If we don't do it soon they'll get angry, and when they get angry they roar, and when they roar it's _so loud_ they can hear it from the city!"

Meelo emphasized this by doing an imitation, and the roar mixed with his airbending was loud enough to make the greenhouse shake and force them all to clamp their hands over their ears.

"Careful!" Mako warned, glaring at Meelo as the door finished rattling on its hinges. "We just fixed that."

"Mako!" Korra called as he was dragged away by Ikki. She pointed at Dick. "Clothes?"

Mako stopped, and Ikki kept trying to pull him along to no avail. "Oh, right. Uh… Check the laundry room—there should be some of my clothes in there." A small smile crossed his face. "And Korra… maybe we can talk later?"

"Yeah, sure! Talk. Talking is good. We should definitely talk."

Dick glanced from Mako's retreating back to Korra and gave her a knowing look.

She wasn't that obvious, was she?

* * *

It took them way too long to dredge through the mess of air acolyte uniforms and other laundry—the airbender kids must've been playing in the laundry room again, the place looked like a hurricane had hit it—to find something to fit Dick.

"Good?" she asked when he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway after changing. He fixed the collar with a tug and gave her a thumbs-up.

Footsteps tapped closer, and Asami rounded the corner, carrying a purse and with a far-off look in her eyes. "Asami, hi!" Korra greeted her.

"Oh, hi, Korra. Hi, Mak—"

Dick turned around, and when Asami saw his face she stopped in surprise, her eyes wide.

"Oops," Asami said. She softly slapped a hand to her forehead in embarrassment, and Dick smiled at that. "I thought you were Mako for a second. I should've known you're not, since you're not wearing his scarf…" She looked at him questioningly. "Even if you are wearing his other clothes."

"This is—" Korra began, but Dick cut her off.

"Richard Grayson," he introduced himself. "But I also go by Dick. Or Nightwing."

"Asami Sato." She shook his hand and cocked her head to the side, considering him. "You sure have a lot of names. Really strange names."

"Yeah, I guess I do…"

Korra launched into the same explanation she gave the others, slightly rushed. She still felt uncertain around Asami after what happened with Mako—_she_ was essentially what broke them up—even though Asami never gave her dirty looks or said anything nasty and had assured her several times that there were no hard feelings. Korra couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt when she saw Asami, especially if Mako was nearby.

"Oh, wow." Asami blinked, stunned. "I mean, that's awful, that you can't get back home," she told Dick. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Um…"

"Why don't I help you search the city tomorrow for that magic transporter stone? We can take my car."

"Yeah, we can all go!" Korra said. "Mako and Bolin are always looking for things to do, and the more people the better, right?" She grimaced and wanted to slap herself when she realized what she had said. "But, if you don't want—"

"No, no, it's fine," said Asami. "You're right, actually—the more people searching, the better."

Korra took a breath of relief when Pema joined them and changed the subject by telling them that dinner would be ready soon.

Pema turned to Dick. "Tenzin told me about you. You must be Richard… or is it Nightwing?" she asked, more to herself than him. "Richard? Nightwing?"

"I'm Dick," he said, shaking her hand.

"How was your meeting?" Pema asked Asami.

"What meeting?" Korra asked.

"Just a really boring one with my dad's executives and some lawyers," Asami explained. "There's a huge inquiry going on." She raked a hand through her hair in frustration and frowned. "They're investigating the company and our factories for Equalists. We don't know how many employees were in on it with my dad. But we can't just shut everything down. Hundreds of benders and non-benders would be out of work."

"So, is it your company now?" asked Korra, confused.

"It's… complicated. And I meant to tell you, Pema—I'm not coming to dinner, if that's okay? I already ate, and I have a lot of paperwork to read through. But I can help you with dishes after."

Asami went one way, Korra and Pema the other. Korra looked side to side and noticed that Dick wasn't with them. She looked back to see him trailing behind and casting a glance over his shoulder.

"Dick?"

"Oh, uh, I'm right behind you." A second later he had caught up and was asking Pema when she was due.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in?" Asami said curiously, looking up from the makeshift desk—only a crate, really—scattered with blank and balled up papers, tools, and miscellaneous engine parts. Tenzin let her have this small, empty sky bison barn as a workshop, and she was spending more and more time here because there wasn't much else for her to do. Her old life had been completely uprooted and now she had to try to forge herself a new one.

Usually no one came to see her this late at night. The entire island was asleep.

The door opened, letting in an icy draft that had Asami pulling the collar of her jacket up, and that man from before—Richard? Nightwing? Dick?—poked his head inside. "Hi," he said, hesitantly taking a step to bring the rest of his body into the room. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

"No, not at all." He smiled at her and closed the door, for which she was thankful. It was freezing outside. There was a small heater in here that radiated warmth, and Dick was drawn towards it immediately. "You can't sleep?" she asked.

He breathed into his palms and pressed them against the sides of his face, trying to warm up. "I'm kind of nocturnal."

Asami had been so shocked by his story earlier that she didn't notice it until now, but there was something about the way his appearance that was… different than what she was used to seeing. Something in the shape of his face and eyes and nose, and the tone of his skin. Not bad, or unattractive, just different.

"Is that where the 'Night' in Nightwing comes from?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said cheekily. "I saw the light through the window," he explained, gesturing at the lamp on her desk, "and thought I'd see who else was still awake out here. I'm happy it's you. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to you earlier."

From a pile of boxes in the corner of the room, Asami dug out a small stool, the closest she could find to a chair, and brought it near the crate-desk. Dick thanked her and sat down, scootching the stool just a bit closer to the heater as he did so.

"Are you working on something?" Dick asked, poking one of the crumpled-up papers.

"Trying to." Asami sighed, idly dotting a blank paper by tapping her pencil. "I'm mostly wasting time. I can't sleep, either. I didn't have a very good day."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not going to complain about my business troubles to someone trapped in another world. Is that even allowed?" His answer was a clueless shrug and a smile. "You seem to be dealing with this really well," she remarked.

"I've been trained to cope with stressful situations. I was in a dark place the first couple of days," he said, and a hollowness appeared in his eyes as he talked about it, "but I think I'm okay now. I'm just relieved that I can talk to all of you. But, If I'm asked if my world _really_ doesn't have benders one more time…"

"What _is_ your world like?"

"Not the easiest question to answer. Where do I even start?" Looking around the room as if for inspiration, his eyes landed on the radio on the table, and he said, "Uh… technologically speaking, my world is just less than a century ahead of yours. I don't mean that in a bad way! I'm not trying to insult you! It's actually really cool being here. And you're definitely on the right track. I saw some cars in the city, and they were great."

She leaned in interestedly. "You have Sato-mobiles?"

"We don't call them that, but… yes?"

"And you're from the future?"

"Sort of? I tried to explain the difference in technology to the others at dinner, but I don't think they believed me. I would have shown them my computer to prove it, but it broke on the way here. I think most of my equipment did."

"There's nothing I won't believe when it comes to technology," Asami said truthfully. Her father had always been on the lookout for the newest innovation, considering everything no matter how ridiculous it sounded at first, and had taught her to likewise keep an open mind.

That was a lesson she felt okay about keeping. Her father may have been a bad person, a criminal and an extremist that hurt her friends, but he had still been a brilliant businessman and the greatest industrialist in the entire city.

Dick told her about flying vehicles, and machines that could do anything from play music to finish complex calculations in the blink of an eye, and invisible waves that carried information, and ships that rocketed out so far into the sky that they left the planet altogether.

She listened intently, letting his descriptions cover up the lingering unpleasantness of her day that was sticking with her like a bad taste in her mouth. How her father's executives had treated her like the little girl she no longer was, and how she had needed to repeat herself twice to get them to acknowledge that she was speaking. They didn't think she was capable of taking over, so she had to prove to them that she had the vision and drive to do so.

Just when she was thinking maybe she could find a way to fill those blank pages the radio on the table let out a sharp buzz of static, cutting off both the soft music playing and Dick's talking.

A familiar voice drifted out of the radio, making Asami's stomach curl. "Good evening, Republic City…"

"Not again," she muttered darkly, reaching for the dial. Amon had made a speech earlier that evening about how the Equalists were rising in power and it was only a matter of time before benders would cease to exist, and it was being replayed on random channels at random times, presumably so that everyone in the city heard it for themselves.

Dick placed his hand over the dial before she could touch it. "Wait, don't change the channel."

"Why in the world do you want to listen to _this_?"

"The same reason we do murder scene investigation. It's unpleasant but it's informative."

They listened to Amon speak in that cold voice about benders getting what they deserve, and Asami tried and failed to understand how her father could believe this drivel, how he could possibly follow this man that wanted to hurt so many people.

The speech ended after what seemed like forever and after an apology from the radio station the normal music began playing again. It was even longer until either of them spoke. Dick was staring into space, thinking hard, and Asami was drawing spirals on a piece of paper, trying not to think.

Dick gave her a sympathetic look. "They told me about your father. Not as gossip!" he amended quickly. "They were just explaining the whole Equalist problem, and they told me about how he's one of them."

"Yeah, he is. I'm still having trouble believing it."

"You know," he said, looking at the radio contemplatively, "I can kind of see where they're coming from."

"What?" she asked in utter disbelief. Her guard went up instantly. Was she sitting and talking to an Equalist sympathizer?

"About the equality thing, not the extremism thing. If people with superpowers were the majority in my world, I think the people without would be pretty scared." He rubbed at his neck sheepishly, his face screwed up as he tried to find the right words. "There's nothing wrong with wanting equality. There is something wrong with wanting to oppress your oppressors. That's just vengeance. And vengeance never ends well for anyone," he said tiredly, and for a split second he seemed a million miles away. "Not that I'm saying the benders are oppressors. Sorry, I don't really know much about it, so…" He cringed in embarrassment. "I— I'm not trying to be offensive. I should probably just shut up, huh?"

"No, don't," Asami said when he was about to stand and leave. "I'm not offended. And, if you want to know more about our world…" She shrugged. "I have time."


End file.
